better than a dream
by ravenclutz
Summary: Ronan can't stop dreaming of Adam.


Ronan knew right away it was a dream. Not only was this Adam too pale, but his hair color didn't resemble sand as much as the real Adam's did. Even his Henrietta accent lacked all the qualities that made Ronan's palms sweat every time he heard it.

Dream Adam spoke cautiously like he was trying out the accent for the first time. When he spoke, his vowels didn't slur together the way real Adam's did, and he didn't add extra syllables to his words or change the pronunciation altogether. The only thing hard to distinguish from dream and reality was the outfit; it was the same one Adam always wore: a faded coca-cola shirt, ripped jeans, and black ratty converses.

It was easy to ignore the differences when Adam stood in front of him, giving Ronan a look that made him feel as if he were on fire. It was the kind of look Ronan could only wish Adam would give him.

It startled Ronan when Adam spoke. There was a softness to it that he only heard from Adam when he was close to falling asleep; when dreams would dance behind his eyelids and all the exhaustion he had felt earlier that day would vanish from his face.

"You always struck me as the one who'd make the first move," Adam said, his tone full of challenges Ronan wouldn't hesitate to take on. "But here _I_ am, making the first move."

Ronan didn't have a chance to respond before he had Adam's lips pressed against his own. The kiss wasn't soft or gentle in any way; it was rough and lip-busting, leaving both of them out of breath. But neither pulled away from the other, and it was as if the need to breathe never occurred to either of them.

It wasn't long before Ronan's shirt was thrown astray and Adam's mouth moved from his lips to his neck. As Adam bent down, his mouth moved as well: starting from Ronan's neck to his collarbone, from his collarbone to his shoulders, stopping only when he reached the waistband of Ronan's pants.

Adam glanced up at Ronan for what he assumed was permission, but Ronan didn't grant it. He shook his head and tugged at his hair until Adam was standing upright again,

"Not yet," Ronan said to Adam's confused face, moving away from the tree. Within seconds, he had their positions reversed, a light smirk on his face at Adam's surprised gasp. His fingers danced underneath Adam's shirt, nails scraping along his warm skin.

Ronan lifted up the shirt, exposing more of Adam's stomach. There wasn't any heat that radiated from his skin, but Ronan figured that was because he was merely a figment of his imagination. Not a minute later, Ronan had the shirt completely removed. But when he looked again, there was no pair of light brown eyes to meet his own, just the dark corner of his bedroom. He no longer felt the cool wind of Cabeswater nor the bark pressed against his back.

Though his mind was still foggy, Ronan had not forgotten the feeling of Adam's skin pressed against his own. He always remembered his dreams in precise detail, which struck him as both a gift and a curse. The memory of it made Ronan's heart race, but shame forced the image out of his mind.

It wasn't until his breathing slowed down that Ronan realized there was something clutched in his hand. He looked down, eyes widening at the sight: it was the shirt Adam was wearing in the dream; the shirt that real Adam owns. Panic rose in his chest as he quickly scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping over Chainsaw's cage. She flapped her wings against the bars, but he ignored her. Quickly, he pulled open a drew at random, stuffing the shirt inside. The red stood out among all the black, so he hastily reorganized, stepping away once he was finished.

"Fuck," he whispered, rubbing his hand over his head. Adam's shirt was no longer noticeable, but that knowledge did nothing to ease Ronan. There would be no reason for Adam to step inside his room, and there would be an even lesser reason for Adam to rummage through his drawers. That was as much reassuring as he was going to get.

Unable to stay in the stuffy room much longer, Ronan grabbed his car keys from the bedside table and bent down to open Chainsaw's cage. Once he had cracked the window and made sure she had food, he stepped out of the room and rushed to the front door and into the night. He had no destination in mind; he just wanted to drive as far away from the dream object as he could.

The dream was a reoccurring thing.

In the beginning, it was only Adam's shirt he brought back with him. The first time he removed Adam's shirt and nothing happened, a spark of hope settled in his chest. He had quickly dropped to his knees and began working on unbuttoning Adam's jeans, but as soon as they were removed, Ronan was back in his room.

That was only the first time it happened. By the time two months passed by, Ronan had more clothes for Adam than he did for himself. There were three drawers specifically for Adam's shirt, and there were three more for his jeans. When Ronan wanted a shirt, he had to move all the red ones, which he had tried his best to hide. Most were stuffed at the back of the drawer, but it was impossible to cover the others.

Another month passed before Ronan decided it was time to throw the shirts and jeans out. When Gansey questioned what he was doing, Ronan claimed he was merely 'spring cleaning', to which Gansey found three flaws: it wasn't spring, Ronan didn't clean, and apparently 'spring cleaning involves actual cleaning and not just throwing old clothes away'. But he managed to do it without further questioning, much to his relief.

Ronan was still ashamed every time he opened his drawers. Though he threw out a large portion of Adam's outfit, he couldn't bring himself to throw every single shirt and jeans away. He kept one shirt and one pair of jeans, solely for his own needs. The fabric still had Adam's scent on it, and Ronan didn't think the scent would go away. Maybe that's how he had dreamt it to be. Nevertheless, he kept the shirt, and every night he kept it wrapped in his hands. Some nights he would fall asleep with his face pressed against the warm shirt. It was those nights when he dreamed of Adam the least.

He knew he should worry about someone walking in and catching him, but for the time being, he didn't. Gansey never entered his room, and Adam sure as hell never did. Ronan wasn't certain where Noah stayed during the day or night, but it wasn't in his room, so he didn't care.

It was a Thursday night when Ronan walked out of his room to find Adam passed out at the kitchen table, his cheek pressed against a textbook. Gansey was away with his sister, which meant Ronan and Adam were alone in the big warehouse.

Hanging his earbuds around his neck, Ronan walked over to Adam, frowning slightly. There were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and Ronan felt slightly guilty for waking him up.

Only slightly. Sighing, he nudged Adam's calf with his foot. When the other boy didn't move, he shoved his shoulder. That made Adam lifted his head and blink sleepily, and Ronan rose an eyebrow. Adam's cheek was red from where he had fallen asleep on it, and Ronan had the sudden urge to reach out and touch his face.

He stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

"What time is it?" Adam asked, voice thick with sleep. Ronan shrugged, putting one of his earbuds back into his ear.

"Do I look like your personal alarm clock? It's half past time to get the fuck off the table. People eat there," Ronan said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest instead.

Adam rubbed his cheek, fixing Ronan with an exasperated look. "Gansey is the only person I've ever seen eat at this table. When you even eat here! Most of the time you're all at Nino's, so shut up." He began putting his books away, and Ronan rolled his eyes. It was late, and Adam had biked here rather than drove. He hadn't asked why, and Adam didn't provide any information. Ronan assumed it wasn't an important reason, if there was one at all.

"You can stay the night here," Ronan offered. His tone was casual. Adam paused at Ronan's offer, glancing up at him with a quirked brow. It seemed like he was trying to read through Ronan's expression, but Ronan had masked it carefully so no cracks would seep through his careless facade.

"Okay," Adam finally said. His tone was casual. "But I need to take a shower." Dropping his bag on the floor, he walked over to where Ronan stood, staring at him expectantly.

"Do I need to fucking point it out to you?" He asked, putting the other earbud in. The music was paused, though, so he could still hear what Adam said. "You can use my bathroom. Sleep on my bed, and I'll take Gansey's room." He didn't wait on Adam's response, walking past him to go to Gansey's door.

Ronan heard Adam sigh before he slipped inside Gansey's room. It was chaotic like always: papers were strewn across the floor, notebooks were open on the desk, and shoes were clumsily lined along the wall. With Gansey being unable to stay organized longer than a day, the untidy room didn't surprise Ronan.

"Ronan?" Adam's voice traveled from the room over. Ronan sighed untangling his headphones from his ears and dropping his phone on the bed. He didn't know what Adam could possibly need for the shower. If it was because he couldn't locate the towels, Ronan would get annoyed. They were on a rack someone would see as soon as they stepped inside the bathroom.

As soon as he stepped inside the room, his face fell. Standing in front of him was Adam, but he didn't know which Adam. He was wearing the outfit from Ronan's dreams, and for a blinding moment, Ronan feared he had accidentally brought the other Adam back. He stayed by the door and swallowed quietly, trying not to look distraught. But of course, not even he could disguise his emotions in a time like this. If it wasn't dream Adam, then it was worse. That meant it was really Adam standing before him, wearing the outfit that made it impossible for Ronan to deny anything.

"Ronan?" Adam repeated, dropping his hands by his side. His expression was confused, a small crinkle between his brows. Ronan pursed his lips and remained quiet, letting Adam continue. "Knowing how much you make fun of this particular shirt, I'm guessing you didn't buy all these to wear around. Which meant you pulled them out of your dream, right? But-before you did that-who did you pull them off _of_?" He took a step towards Ronan. "Did you pull them off of me?"

At Adam's question, Ronan dug his nails into the skin of his forearm and tried not to let his emotions show. It was bad enough that Adam had found what Ronan wanted to keep hidden, but he was also forcing Ronan to talk about something he didn't want to talk about. When he looked up at Adam, his expression no longer seemed confused. It seemed. . . understanding.

It pissed Ronan off.

"Don't fucking look at me like that, Adam," he spat, taking a step back. "I don't want you to tell me you understand because you fucking don't. Do you think _I_ understand why I'm pulling clothes off of my best friend in a dream? Because I don't. Do you think I understand why I want to pull your fucking clothes off right now? Because I _don't_." He took a deep breath and kept his uneven breathing quiet. As soon as Adam's expression changed again, Ronan realized he had just confessed to Adam.

"You weren't expecting that?" Ronan sneered, curling his lips up in anger. Adam blinked at Ronan's tone, then narrowed his eyes. He didn't look pleased, which made Ronan even angrier. Did he think he had the right to feel apprehensive right now?

"You. . . are such an idiot," Adam breathed, shaking his head and taking the final three steps towards Ronan, who pressed himself back against the door. "Why do you think I agreed to spend the night with you? Why do you think I let you _sleep_ on my floor whenever you _want_ to?" He licked his lips before continuing. "It's not out of the goodness of my heart. It's because I wanted to _be_ with you, you moron."

Ronan had stopped breathing before Adam even finished talking. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; was Adam admitting his feeling towards Ronan? He didn't want to be too hopeful, but the way Adam was looking at him made it impossible not to be. Their faces were only inches apart, and Ronan couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would be to close the space between them.

"You used past-tense," Ronan finally said. "You don't want to be with me anymore?" His heart thudded against his chest. The question worried him, but the answer worried him even more.

Adam rolled his eyes at Ronan's question, looking amused for a moment. Ronan opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he never got the chance. Adam put his lips against his own, and the first thing he thought about was how different it felt from his dream. This kiss was softer and gentler, but most importantly, it was real. He rested his hand on the back of Adam's head, keeping his eyes closed when Adam pulled away. His breath hit Ronan's mouth as he spoke.

"Did that make it more present-tense for you?" he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting. Ronan sighed softly, moving his hand to rest on the side of his face.

"I might need a little more," Ronan said, and Adam laughed. This time, when he pressed his lips against Ronan's, Ronan allowed himself to get lost in the sweetness of the kiss.


End file.
